


When The Pain Fades

by hollyand



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age II
Genre: Angst, Canonical Character Death, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Grief/Mourning, M/M, Minor Character Death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-20
Updated: 2016-12-20
Packaged: 2018-09-10 17:34:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,452
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8926111
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hollyand/pseuds/hollyand
Summary: The continuation of that scene when Anders is visiting Hawke after his mother died. For Leo-fina, written as a thank-you for her beautiful Carver/Merrill render as cover art for my longfic.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Leofina](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Leofina/gifts).



> Written for a prompt by leo-fina.tumblr.com. I'm so sorry it took so long! I struggle massively with angsty prompts at the best of times, and... ouch, this prompt :-( Anyway - I hope you enjoy your gift, and Merry Christmas! x

‘I know nothing I say will change it. I just… I’m sorry.’ Anders hesitated before he spoke again. ‘You were lucky to have her as long as you did. When the pain fades, that’s what will matter.’

‘A _mage_ did this to her,’ Garrett Hawke answered. He stared into the fireplace, where the flames burned yellow and solemn and quiet, reflecting the mood in the room. ‘Maybe we’re a danger to everyone around us.’

Anders shook his head. ‘He was a madman. That’s what made him do this, not magic!’ He sat down on the bed, next to Hawke, and took his lover’s hand in his. ‘I know you’re looking for someone to be angry at. If it helps, go ahead and take it out on me.’

Hawke’s face crumpled, and Anders caught him in his arms as Hawke sagged onto him and sobbed into his shoulder. Hawke clung to him like he would collapse if Anders hadn’t been there, sitting on the bed next to him, and all Anders could do was smooth his hand over Hawke’s back, rubbing soothing circles between Hawke’s shoulder blades, as if he could somehow massage the pain away.

It was difficult seeing his lover like this. Anders had got used to seeing Hawke so strong, so ready with a quip and a smile no matter what the situation, the man who was strong for both of them – stronger than Anders was, he was sure of that; but now that Anders was the one who had to hold Hawke up, to tape the broken pieces back together as if they would ever fit together again, Anders worried that not even all the healing skills he had in the world would be enough.

Maybe it would never be enough.

Hawke heaved huge, wailing, wet sobs that racked his body and soaked Anders’s clothes, and Anders closed his eyes as he felt the tears well up behind them, threatening to spill into his lover’s dark hair.

It wasn’t fair. Hawke didn’t deserve this. Leandra didn’t, either. Anders cursed himself for not having seen more, done more, anything to protect his love from losing his mother in the worst way possible. To protect his love from the pain he now felt.

‘Anders,’ Hawke sniffled, ‘I’m… I’m sorry.’

‘Don’t be,’ Anders told him gently, trying to keep his voice steady. ‘I’m here.’

***

Sleep was all Hawke wanted to do for the next few days. Anders was torn between his responsibilities to his patients, and his desire to never leave Hawke’s side.

The estate was silent, mourning; no matter how they tried to keep things quietly running, Anders wasn’t blind to the reddened eyes and tear-stained faces of Bodahn, Sandal or Orana. Bodahn waved him away with a choked cry into his sleeve when Anders offered to relieve him of his duties, even just for a few hours; while Orana just smiled sadly and said: ‘The Master needs us. He’s been so good to us all. It’s the least we can do.’

People came to offer their condolences. Hawke refused to see them. Anders sat stoically through a parade of nobles offering sympathy flowers in his lover’s absence, easy words tumbling from their lips expressing sorrows for the family and Leandra. Not an unkind word was ever said about her; but the fulsome, blanket praises offered only in death that Leandra had never got to hear in life, praises offered out of noble duty rather than heartfelt compassion, got too much to bear for Anders sometimes – and a subtle nod to Bodahn had the effusive dwarf ushering the surprised noble out of the house before they got to finish their eloquently-feigned eulogies.

(The sympathy lilies they often brought were disposed of in the appropriate manner.)

Merrill and Varric were the first of their little band of misfits to turn up at the estate. Varric looked sober, his silver tongue failing even him for once, while Merrill had obviously been crying. They sat in awkward silence in the parlour for a while, watching the flames in the fireplace the same way Hawke often did in his waking hours, waiting for Hawke to be ready to receive them. Fenris and Aveline were next, while last, but not least, was Isabela.

‘I’m sorry,’ was all she said when she finally crossed the threshold. ‘I didn’t come earlier because… I didn’t know what to say. I’m… not good with emotional things.’

‘You don’t need to be,’ Anders told her. ‘He’ll be happy to see you.’

The pirate’s usually confident posture slumped, relieved, all defiance lost. ‘I’d like to see Hawke too, when he’s ready for me.’

Anders couldn’t help being grateful for the way everyone rallied around Hawke. Merrill and Varric offered to stay so that Anders could return to his patients – at least for a while, during the day, until he could return to Hawke at night. Fenris brought over a bottle of Aggregio Pavali from his wine cellar; and when Anders came back from the clinic, Hawke was passed out on the bed, breath reeking of alcohol, so Anders could only presume Hawke had at least had some company and fine wine.

‘Thank you for looking after him,’ Aveline had said, and Anders had to fight the lump catching in his throat.

***

There was no body for the funeral. Hawke had burned it once the last breath of life had left her. The grisly details of Leandra’s death had, fortunately, not been made public; that she had been murdered in Lowtown was shocking enough in Hightown circles.

‘You don’t have to go, love,’ Anders had said, but Hawke had insisted anyway. Anders stood by his side, because he was needed, because he promised to be there.

The Chantry was packed. Grand Cleric Elthina spoke many of the same gracious words that their noble neighbours had asked Anders to pass on to Hawke some weeks ago. Leandra’s favourite hymn was sung. Rows of unfamiliar faces, dressed in black, bowed their heads and murmured how sad it was. It all passed in a blur.

Hawke said nothing to anyone. Somehow he managed to avoid everyone who might have wished to talk to him.

Once it was over, Hawke made a speedy exit back to the mansion, Anders striding behind him in his wake, and cried like he hadn’t done in weeks.

*** 

A month later, Anders was writing his manifesto by candlelight, the scritching sound of his inked quill on parchment a now-familiar sound at night, when he heard soft footsteps on the carpet, tentatively crossing the room.

‘Hawke.’ Anders put his quill down and stood, facing his lover.

‘Anders.’ Shadows flickered across Hawke’s face from the candles, but his gaze remained steady and true. ‘Am I bothering you?’

‘Of course not. Anything you need?’

Hawke cracked a smile then; a weak, jerky, blink-and-you’ll-miss-it thing, but a smile nonetheless. ‘Nothing. Just you.’

Anders allowed himself a chuckle. ‘You know what I mean,’ he said, as Hawke crossed the last of the distance between them and perched himself on the desk, staring at his manifesto with interest, but Hawke just shrugged.

‘I just wanted to thank you,’ Hawke mumbled to the manifesto, watching the way the orange fire-light danced across the page. ‘For being… for being there.’

‘No need.’

‘I mean it,’ Hawke said. ‘I know how – how hard this has been on you. How hard it’s been on everyone really. Bodahn, Sandal, Orana… I’ve barely spoken a sentence to any of them for weeks. I owe them an apology.’

‘Hawke.’ Anders placed his hand gently over the other man’s. ‘ _Love_. You don’t have to apologise to _anyone_. We all understand.’

Hawke said nothing. He lifted his head and stared into the flames, the same way he’d done so many times before, his face expressionless, just watching. Anders waited where he was, tracing slow circles on his hand with his thumb.

‘How are you feeling now, love?’ Anders murmured.

‘Better,’ Hawke said. ‘Well. A little. Life goes on, I suppose.’ He turned to look at Anders then, and once again Anders thought he saw the beginnings of a smile. ‘Thank you, Anders. For everything.’

 _When the pain fades_ , thought Anders, _that’s what will matter_.

Anders took Hawke’s other hand in his, meeting his lover’s serious expression with one of his own. ‘I try,’ he said earnestly.

‘I know,’ Hawke replied. He sighed before speaking again, turning back to the slow-burning candle. ‘I know I’m lucky to have you. Thank you.’

Anders felt his throat tighten. ‘No problem,’ he whispered; and there was that ghost of a smile, again.

The pain hadn’t faded, not yet. But they would get there together, no matter how long it would take.

**Author's Note:**

> Come say hello at [hollyand-writes.tumblr.com](http://hollyand-writes.tumblr.com)!


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